The Comedy of Errors (Folio 1, 1623)
Not Peer Reviewed
¶
Actus Secundus.
¶
Enter Adriana, wife to Antipholis Sereptus, with
¶Luciana her Sister.
¶Sure Luciana it is two a clocke.
¶And from the Mart he's somewhere gone to dinner:
280Good Sister let vs dine, and neuer fret;
¶A man is Master of his libertie:
¶Luc. Oh, know he is the bridle of your will.
290There's nothing situate vnder heauens eye,
¶Are their males subiects, and at their controules:
295Lord of the wide world, and wilde watry seas,
¶Of more preheminence then fish and fowles,
¶Are masters to their females, and their Lords:
¶Then let your will attend on their accords.
¶Luci. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed.
305Luc. Till he come home againe, I would forbeare.
¶They can be meeke, that haue no other cause:
¶We bid be quiet when we heare it crie.
310But were we burdned with like waight of paine,
¶So thou that hast no vnkinde mate to greeue thee,
¶But if thou liue to see like right bereft,
315This foole-beg'd patience in thee will be left.
¶Luci. Well, I will marry one day but to trie:
¶Heere comes your man, now is your husband nie.
¶
Enter Dromio Eph.
320E.Dro. Nay, hee's at too hands with mee, and that my
¶his minde?
¶E.Dro. I, I, he told his minde vpon mine eare,
¶his meaning.
¶feele his blowes; and withall so doubtfully, that I could
¶Adri. Horne mad, thou villaine?
335E.Dro. I meane not Cuckold mad,
¶When I desir'd him to come home to dinner,
¶He ask'd me for a hundred markes in gold:
¶'Tis dinner time, quoth I: my gold, quoth he:
340Your meat doth burne, quoth I: my gold quoth he:
¶Will you come, quoth I: my gold, quoth he;
¶Where is the thousand markes I gaue thee villaine?
¶The Pigge quoth I, is burn'd: my gold, quoth he:
¶Luci. Quoth who?
I know quoth he, no house,
¶tongue, I thanke him, I bare home vpon my shoulders:
350for in conclusion, he did beat me there.
¶Dro. Goe backe againe, and be new beaten home?
¶Betweene you, I shall haue a holy head.
¶That like a foot-ball you doe spurne me thus:
¶Luci. Fie how impatience lowreth in your face.
365Hath homelie age th' alluring beauty tooke
¶From my poore cheeke? then he hath wasted it.
370Doe their gay vestments his affections baite?
¶What ruines are in me that can be found,
¶By him not ruin'd? Then is he the ground
¶Of my defeatures. My decayed faire,
¶But, too vnruly Deere, he breakes the pale,
¶And feedes from home; poore I am but his stale.
380I know his eye doth homage other-where,
¶Or else, what lets it but he would be here?
¶Sister, you know he promis'd me a chaine,
¶Would that alone, a loue he would detaine,
¶So he would keepe faire quarter with his bed:
¶That others touch, and often touching will,
¶Where gold and no man that hath a name,
390Since that my beautie cannot please his eie,
¶Ile weepe (what's left away) and weeping die.
¶
Exit.
